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Friday, April 30, 2010

Kristy. Kristy's always been the insane, BSC Uber Alles member. When her plans of getting the entire club to go to the same school conveniently located within a mile of Stoneybrook, 90210/Boy Meets World/Saved By the Bell-style fall through, she'll go a little insane. The other members will respond with, "Kristy, we haven't been close in years and we're basing our college choices on [scholarship options/majors/where our boyfriends are going], not who we hung out with in middle school," and she'll decide college isn't for her.

Kristy will be the lone take-a-year-off-to-find-herself BSC-er. (And by find herself, I mean find the courage to resolve the sexual tension that's been happening between her and Abby ever since Kristy yelled at her for having an asthma attack.)

Mary Anne. Mary Anne will be an R.A. at a women's college up in Massachusetts. Not the kind of R.A. who does it for the stipend and free board, but because she loves an excuse to passive aggressively boss people around. When she's not studying to become a social worker, she's spending (chaste) time with her boyfriend, Doug, who goes to one of the co-ed schools across the way and is a fellow R.A.

Memorable moment. Smelling marijuana smoke and stepping out into the hall in her macramed R.A. bathrobe. Not to go and bust heads, mind you, but to make it clear she's here to offer a fun and way healthier alternative, like making potholers for nursing home inmates or watching Dirty Dancing and drinking a shot of apple juice any time there's a Mount Holyoke reference. Anyone wanna see her pleater?

School of choice: Mount Holyoke, Smith, or Wellesley (Mary Anne will base her decision not on which of them gives her a better financial package but on whichever one will let her bring her cat.)

Claudia. Claud will be the performance artist. When the jaded art school confidential bunch scoff at her candy art as pedestrian, Warhol-esque, and lackluster, she'll try as hard as she can to get some cred, stooping even to incorporate body fluids into her art.

Can't you just see Claudia trying to do her own Georgia O'Keefe inspired flower/vagina paintings, using menstrual blood? Or artificially impregnating herself and then aborting like that Yale art student hoax a few years back?

(Above, Claud's senior thesis, a tampon in a teacup.)

Memorable Moment. When Claudia comes home to do her laundry and her parents have discussions about her future late at night.

Mr. Kishi: "OK, I know the top three Asian futures--medicine, law, and engineering--are out for her. But she's at least as smart as a moderately intelligent monkey. What about business school?"

Mrs. Kishi: "Hmmm. Mr. Zorzi could write her a recommendation about how she didn't cheat on that math test in 8th grade. Her honesty in the face of sheer mediocrity would have gotten her hired at Enron ten years ago for sure."

School of choice: NYU or Sarah Lawrence. Yes, I know both of these schools generally require the applicant to be able to correctly spell their names, but Claud can include a snapshot of herself a la Elle Woods if it comes to that. Of course, you know this is only a one or two year experiment till she drops out to go to F.I.T.

Stacey. Stacey will initially try to go the sorority route. When they blackball her for hitting on their boyfriends (which she'll interpret as "They were all jealous of me--besides, I'm too sophisticated for a sorority anyway"), she'll go a different route. Sex columnist! "Writing is easy!" she'll tell herself as she peruses Bluefly.com in between describing the sexual styles of engineering versus English majors.

(Stacey, only think less Asian, with higher stilettos and a shorter skirt)

Stacey will get huffy when the NYTimes interviews her and charitably declines to eviscerate her writing style, instead opting to favorably review her stilettos and postage stamp skirts. "I'm more than my meticulously accessorized outfits!"

Memorable Moment. "How dare you people write letters to me saying you think I'm sexy? When I wrote the column Blow Jobs for Bimbos, that was NOT an invitation to talk to me about sex. And I did not plagiarize the line I never lost my head even when I was giving head from Lou Reed. He must have copied it from me."

School of choice. Stacey, with her decent grades (and her ability to coax recommendations from young male teachers who stand a little too close to her) will be the only BSC-er to tickle the Ivies, as it were. I see her at Columbia so she won't have to cut back on her weekly shopping trips. Of course, there'll be a lot of whining over why they couldn't have built the school opposite Bloomie's on the East side.

Dawn. Dawn will be a women's study major with a minor in environmental science. Her formerly preppy California casual style, once peppered with the occasional Laura Ashley dress, will devolve into hippie skirts made from hemp and scarves made of whatever she finds on the side of the road when supervising the anti littering initiative at the beach.

(Think blonder, angrier, with breasts that are saggier--er, ah, more liberated.)

Memorable moment. The time Dawn tried to comfort an assault victim on the rape crisis hotline but ended up dissolving into tears over guilt at her white privilege and inability to go beyond level three veganism only to be comforted by assault victim.

School of choice: Sarah Lawrence if she returns to the East coat (Dawn's going to make Ten Things' Kat look subdued) or UC Berkley if she decides to stay a California gal.

Jessi. She'll become an African American studies major with a minor in dance. No, I didn't get that backwards. With her dreams of devoting her life to dance out the window (gal's got Aunt Ce's hips in her genetic makeup), she'll devote all her energy towards AA studies. When she's not stalking Toni Morrison, she'll be spending most of her time the campus bookstore demanding that they carry more copies of For Colored Girls (and surreptitiously graffiti-ing "UNPACK YOUR PRIVILEGE" in copies of classics written by Whitey).

Memorable moment: Jessi being turned down to dance the lead in a modern day student run version of Aida. Jessi's reaction: "It's because I'm black, isn't it? No way Whitey casts a black girl to play a Nubian slave!"

School of choice: Initially, I thought of historically black colleges. But if Jessi goes to one of those, she'll have to get a personality. Being "the black girl" won't carry her far at Spelman or Howard. Considering the hissy fit she threw when Mallory took riding lessons and went to boarding school without her, she'll probably end up wherever everyone's favorite ginger goes.

Mallory. Mallory will initially get mocked for thinking that great journalism means writing exposes on the cafeteria food. But eventually, after a few fiction workshops and poetry seminars (where you know she'll pass off more than a few of Vanessa's couplets as her own), she'll learn to write meaningful prose.

Memorable moment: Being asked by Tom Wolfe to ghostwrite I Am Charlotte Simmons (what, you thought he actually risked getting his dainty white suit stained with Schnappes by going to frat parties himself? All lies for the press kit!). And because Mal makes Napoleon Dynamite look suave, laidback parties where people play Coke pong and have debates about the relative hotness of Johnny Depp are, in her eyes, drunken orgies straight out of Brave New World (except replace soma with roofies).

School of choice. Vassar! As in, "At this rate I won't even get into Vassar." No hate from those of you who did go here--Vassar was actually my close second choice.

Janine. Will going to university give Janine the social skills she needs to succeed in life? Are you kidding? Janine's going to be the girl who sits back to back with her roommate while they IM each other. She'll have 5,000 Facebook friends and Twitter followers, none of whom she's ever met. But she will be their queen, regaling them with hilarious math/science commentary as she takes her first tentative steps into assuming her next identity (as Randall Munroe). The Internet will do for college kids like Janine what frats did for guys like Bluto.

Memorable Moment. Publishing this comic to her personal blog. From there, fame, fortune, and the respect of geeks, dweebs, and spazzes everywhere will follow. (As well as the growing resentment of starving artist Claudia "Tampon in a Teacup" Kishi.)

School of choice: M.I.T., bitches. You know that the Kishis would probably commit seppuku if at least one of their daughters didn't go to the mecca of acceptable Asian schools.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Once upon a time there were four children named Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. They were sent away to live with an old professor in the country during the war because of the air raids. He lived with his housekeeper, Mrs. McCready and three servants. (Their names were Ivy, Bridget, and Katie, but being lower class and almost surely Irish, they don't much matter.)

The first night, Peter said, "We've fallen on our feet all right. That old chap will let us do anything we like and this is a jolly fine house. I can't wait to go exploring outside tomorrow."

"Huzzah for the blitzkrieg!" shouted Lucy, "I hope it lasts at least a fortnight!"

But the next day it was raining. "Oh, it would rain," grumped Edmund.

"Do stop grumbling, Ed. We're well off. There's a wireless, plenty of books, and I spied a tube of lipstick downstairs," said Susan.

"None of that for me. I'm exploring," said Peter, and they all agreed.

They set off around the house and came to a room with a great wardrobe. The others lost interest but Lucy, the youngest, decided to explore. She went inside, taking care to leave not to shut the door behind her (for all strong, right minded, Christian god loving people know not to shut themselves in a wardrobe). The fur coats smelled wonderful.

Tea with Mr. Tumnus

Lucy felt around for the back of the wardrobe but she couldn't find it. The air got colder as she went back and she felt something wet on the ground. Snow! She stepped into a snowy world, and noticed a lamp post. Curious and curiouser.

A faun holding an umbrella and packages under his arm was walking by quickly. When he saw her he gave a great gulp and dropped the packages. "Are--are you...a Daughter of Eve?"

"Why," said Lucy, "I'm only a Capricorn. What are you?"

"You--you're human? A girl?"

"Yes," she nodded. She tried to explain where she had come from but the faun who called himself Mr. Tumnus didn't seem to understand any better than her. But he told her that this land was called Narnia. He brought her back to his home.

There was a roaring fire, sardines on toast, cozy armchairs, and the occasion was only marred by the lack of botulism (the faun had just eaten the last of the steak and kidney pie). Mr. Tumnus told her stories about Narnia as it had been in the olden days. There were stag hunts and treasure hunts with the old dwarf and sometimes Bacchus himself would come to visit and there would be revelry for weeks. But now the White Witch ruled and it was always winter, but never Christmas. Only the occasional bout of Hanukkah--and who wants that?

Lucy said that she expected she had better be going.

The Faun suddenly burst into sobs. "I'm such a bad, bad Faun!"

"It's all right," said Lucy pleasantly. "I can hardly even see your areolae when you lift your arms like that."

Mr. Tumnus told her the truth. That he was in the service of the White Witch and that he'd promised her he would hand over any Daughter of Eve or Son of Adam to her. But Lucy told him, "If you let me go now and wear sweaters when company's over, you won't be such a bad faun."

Back home, Lucy tried to tell the other children about the land of Narnia, but they wouldn't believe her.

Edmund Meets a Cougar

Edmund especially jeered at her. But one day during a particularly ripping game of hide and seek, Edmund saw Lucy go into the wardrobe. Having the idea of making fun of her, he followed her in, foolishly bothering not to leave the wardrobe door open (as all right thinking children of the British Empire know to do). To his shock, he realized that there was snow on the ground and he was in the land of Narnia.

A sledge pulled up, with a dwarf driving reindeer. Behind him sat a beautiful white skinned woman, more gorgeous than any he had ever seen. "You, boy," she said. "Are you a Son of Adam?" Edmund explained that he was a boy.

"This may wreck all," she said to herself. "But he is only one, and I'm sure I can destroy him quite easily if I need to." She smiled at Edmund. "Would you like a ride on my sledge?"

Edmund frowned. The woman's words were a bit alarming. But she smiled so invitingly, and let her beautiful fur fall a bit off her shoulder, and he immediately climbed on. "Rather!"

She offered him anything he wanted to eat. He chose Turkish Delight and the dwarf brought him some. He gobbled it up eagerly for you see, this was enchanted Turkish Delight. In real life little else can compare to it, but perhaps opium smoked by Chinamen in far off lands or a good helping of bangers and mash. The beautiful light skinned woman said that she was the Queen of Narnia, and that she would make Edmund a king at her castle. But first he would need to bring his siblings there so they could be courtiers. Edmund agreed to all this and more. She let him off the sledge, and he ran off.

He ran into Lucy who'd been having a lovely visit with Mr. Tumnus. They'd talked about goblins and wood nymphs and dwarfs and other whimsical, enchanting things that I shan't go into--else I won't have anything to write about if this book gets picked up and made into a multi million dollar grossing franchise! Lucy thought it was smashing that he knew, too. But when they got home, Edmund refused to tell the others that he had been in Narnia, and instead laughed at Lucy.

A Day with Beavers

Lucy thought no one would believe her--until something very important happened a few weeks later. The children were trying to hide from the housekeeper giving tours to grown ups who wanted to see the Professor's house. They went into the wardrobe and suddenly they were all in Narnia. Right away Peter apologized for not believing Lucy and she forgave him.

"Well, what shall we do first?" asked Susan.

"Let's look up Mr. Tumnus," said Lucy excitedly. "I'm sure he won't mind if we all crash." But at Mr. Tumnus's house, no one was there and the sweet little house was in shambles more befitting the lifestyle of a hobbit than of a faun. There was a note on the ground describing Mr. Tumnus's arrest.

"Oh no!" cried Lucy. The children weren't sure what to do when they spied a beaver in the woods. The beaver introduced himself with the charmingly original name Mr. Beaver and told them that Mr. Tumnus had informed him about them before his arrest. He and his wife, Mrs. Beaver, would help the children.

"Aslan is on the move," Mr. Beaver told them. The children all felt a rippling of excitement move through them. Lucy felt like she did watching a particularly good Guy Fawkes Day bonfire. Peter felt as he had when he'd read about the British quashing the Indians in the 1857 rebellion.

"Is Aslan a man?" asked Susan.

"A man?" said Mr. Beaver scornfully. "He's the son of God. And a spirit. And human. All simultaneously, though--don't ask how. It's complicated." Then when Mrs. Beaver gave him a look, he amended. "Er, no, he's actually a lion. But a great and terrible lion. He will put everything to right. As legend goes, once two Sons of Adams and two Daughters of Eve sit upon the thrones at Cair Paravel, all will be as it should. That's you children!"

They asked next about the Queen.

"No, there isn't a drop of human blood in her," said Mr. Beaver. "She's really a witch. She comes of your father Adam's first wife, who was part Jinn, and quite beastly--wanting equality instead of sitting and sewing for Adam all day. And on the other side, she's of the giants. She'll be wanting to kill you children to prevent the prophecy."

Suddenly, they realized Edmund had gone. Mr. Beaver said, "He had the shifty eyed look of someone who had been with the Witch and eaten her food."

"And his skin looked a bit swarthier," Mrs. Beaver added.

There was no time to waste. As soon as Edmund found the Witch, she would be after them. The children and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver went off at once. They took shelter in a hiding place the beavers knew of and fell fast asleep.

Aslan is Nearer

All of a sudden, the children heard a sound. The beavers scampered up and then came down and told the children that Father Christmas was here. That meant the Queen's power was lessening: Christmas! Not Ramadan or Solstice, or an awful pagan holiday like that, but Christmas. Father Christmas stood before them. He wasn't the jolly, fat man they'd seen pictures of as children. He was tall and quite solemn.

Bu then Santa smiled. "I've got gifts for you." For Peter, a sword of truth and a shield of justice to be used in the battle to come. For Lucy, an elixir that could be sprinkled over the wounded to make them smell better--and might even do them a bit of good health wise. For Susan, a bow and arrow. "Shall I use it in the battle?" she asked.

"No, it's mostly for show. Battle is ugly when women fight. Use this instead if you're in danger." Santa handed her a beautifully hand crafted rape whistle.

The children peered in eagerly at the rest of the toys in Santa's sack--guillotines and vials of acid and heaps and heaps of grenades, for good little boys and girls in other faraway magical lands. Then Father Christmas raised his hand and was off.

But you must be wondering about Judas--er, Edmund. He had been growing angrier and more resentful, feeling that the others were ignoring him, which wasn't true of course. They were simply more interested in the adorable anthropomorphic rodents, as we all would be. But Edmund left. He tore at his hair with his hands, thinking, "Oh, I say! I'd sell Lucy to an orgy of satyrs for some Turkish Delight!" In no time, he was at the Witch's house where a great many animals had been turned to stone.

The Queen gave Edmund no more enchanted Turkish Delight, however. Instead, upon hearing his news, she knew it was time to set off to find the rest of the children. She put a rope around Edmund and made him pull the sleigh. She did have odd taste, didn't she?

But it's too frightening to think of. Let's turn to the rest of the children. For them, it was time to meet Aslan. If it were possible for something to be both good and terrible, then Aslan was. The others went off to prepare a great feast, while Aslan decided to speak to Peter.

"Come, Son of Adam, I will show you a far of sight of the castle where you are to be High King." Aslan gestured to a beautiful castle far off in the distance. "That is where you shall be king, and your brother and sisters shall be king and queens as well. We're getting your throne and scepter set up for you by next week, and I'll have Mr. Beaver erase the scrolls of the last king."

All of a sudden there was a loud noise--Susan's whistle! There was chaos as people ran about. Peter looked up to see that a large wolf had chased Susan up a tree. He ran after it and slayed the beast using his new sword. In relief, Susan came down. Peter felt pretty shaky himself. And I won't say there wasn't a great deal of hugging and kissing on both sides--though I won't go into it, being British and all.

In the distance there were other wolves running off. Aslan told the rest of his followers to go after them to find the White Witch and rescue Edmund.

"You have forgotten to clean your sword," said Aslan to Peter. Peter blushed and bent to wipe it in the grass. "Here," said Aslan gravely, dropping a packet of wet wipes and some antibacterial sword sanitizer at Peter's feet. "Since you took it out of the original packaging, you'll have to be careful. Remember always to clean your sword, Son of Man."

Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time

Finally, Edmund had been rescued but the Witch still lurked. She came to Aslan the next day, though, telling him that Edmund was hers. All traitors were hers to dispose of, just as the Deep Magic decreed. She had filled out all her forms in triplicate, too. "But Aslan," Susan argued, "isn't there something we can do to work against it?"

"To work against forms filled out in triplicate?" Aslan looked at her with something like a frown on his face, if lions can be said to frown. And nobody ever made that suggestion to him again.

Aslan walked with the Witch. And finally they came to an agreement. Edmund was to be released.

That night, Susan and Lucy couldn't sleep. They felt something awful would happen to Aslan. They went outside and found Aslan. "My children, why are you following me?"

"We felt the need to be close to you, O Aslan," said Lucy. "I can't explain it."

Aslan said, "Very well." But soon he said, "Now you must leave me." Susan and Lucy didn't go any further but they did watch.

But oh the things they saw! Such evil looking monstrous things that I won't describe because if I did the grown-ups wouldn't let you read this book. And because I don't know how. Finally, the The Witch killed Aslan. Susan and Lucy cried bitterly.

Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time (or Aslan and the Legal Loophole)

But a few hours later, the girls heard a sound and saw Aslan before them. He explained, "What the Witch didn't know about was a loophole in the Deep Magic. When a willing victim is killed in a traitor's stead on the Stone Table, it will crack and death will work backward. Narnia's legal team of centaurs and wood nymphs found that out at the eleventh hour, and as we speak our satyrs are preparing a suit that will have the White Queen wrapped up in litigation for all eternity. Come, children!"

Aslan made all the stone creatures whole again. And then all the creatures he had brought back joined together and hunted down the battle where the Narnians were fighting the White Witch. The dogs and lions and wolves were going full speed with the others following and the children and smaller animals on the backs of the four legged creatures. It was just like an English fox hunt (but with more noise and less tweed).

On the battlefield, Aslan fought the Witch. Soon after she was killed, the battle ended. Edmund had been wounded badly--he'd fought his way to the witch and destroyed her wand. "Lucy," said Aslan. "The elixir."

Lucy put a few drops in her brother's mouth, her fingers trembling. "There are other people wounded," said Aslan as Lucy stared into Edmund's face hoping to see the elixir work.

"Yes, I know, just wait a minute," said Lucy, cross.

"Daughter of Eve #2," said Aslan. "Many others are at the point of death. Must more people die for Edmund?"

"I say," said Edmund, looking up, "you're going to hold that over my head for my entire reign at Narnia, aren't you?"

"Until Daughter of Eve #1 leaves her nylons drying in the throne room, yes," said Aslan.

The Hunting of the White Stag

Now that the Witch was dead, good was returning to Narnia. Of course, there were a few werewolves here and there to stamp out, a rumor of a hag now and again, or stories of a dwarf who was swarthier than normal. But in the end all evil was stamped out. And these two Kings and two Queens made good laws and liberated young dwarfs and young satyrs from being sent to school and shouted "Rule Narnia" at random intervals. Aslan himself wandered off--after all, he is a wild lion and doesn't like to be tied down or asked, "Where are you going? When will you be back? Why don't you ever call on us? Are you remembering to comb your mane?"

One day years later the two Kings and two Queens were out hunting the white stag who granted a wish if he were caught. Soon they came upon a lamp post that looked familiar. They went a little further and instead of going through trees, they were going through coats and falling out the other end of the wardrobe as four regular boys and girls.

They thought they ought to explain to the Professor the absence of the four coats they'd taken when they first entered Narnia--they were, after all, sons and daughters of empire. After listening, the Professor didn't tell them the tales of Narnia were the ramblings of a half mad half insane idiot. Perhaps indeed they would one day return to Narnia. After all, once a King of Narnia, always a King of Narnia!

And, the children agreed, it had been the best war related hol ever.

Off topic, but just wanted to thank everyone who's re-tweeted or mentioned my blog to other people--my goal this year is to increase the readership even more, and every bit helps!

Monday, April 26, 2010

Before the film started, I decided to do things a little differently. I wanted to see if I could predict who would die. But of course, I've seen this movie about a thousand times. So I turned to my stuffed toys (or plush companions as they prefer to be called) to see if anything of me had rubbed off on them.

My three main animals are Feetington Bear, Rosie the Riveting Alligator, and Sir Tuskie the Elephant.

Sadako: "Who's the first victim of the death panel? How about Ian Malcolm, chaotician?"

Tuskie: "No, he's the main character."

Sadako: "I've schooled you well. Sarah Harding, lady paleontologist?"

Feetington Bear: "A spunky cute redhead? In her little safari jacket, looking like the Christiane Amanpour of paleontologists? Not even if she were part lady Hitler."

Sadako: "Nick Van Owen, Greenpeace activist and onetime PETA member?"

Rosie: "No way. He's the sexy frat pack equivalent of the Lorax."

Sadako: "Eddie Carr, your company's computer guy?"

Rosie: "Three to one against him making it out in one piece. If he had enough hair for a combover, I'd say two to one."

Tuskie: "No way Spielberg lets the George Costanza of the group survive."

Sadako: "Kelly Malcolm, Ian's daughter?"

Beat. Pause.

All: "BWAHAHAHAHA...You're joking, right?"

Sadako: "Okay, okay. So how about the people working for INGEN?"

Tuskie: "How about we make this quicker and compile a list of the ones who DON'T die?"

Tuskie: "The Andrew Jackson of dinosaurs? I think the question is how horribly does he die."

Feetington Bear: "No, Roland's a noble hunter. He may be a bad guy technically but he's a potential Boba Fett. And the producers are not making the same mistake killing him off they did with Robert Muldoon. He'll live to fight another day, possibly voiced by Tim Curry in an animated spin off on Fox."

Sadako: "Ajay, Roland's Indian companion?"

Tuskie: "Never gonna make it. He's the dark skinned equivalent of a Redshirt."

Sadako: "Peter Ludlow, head of InGen?"

Feetington Bear: "He's a corporate head and a Bob Balaban doppleganger! Deader than Donald 'Anal Stage' Gennaro, Esquire in the first one."

So, with our bets taken, we settled in.

John Hammond: "I'm a conservationist now. I've sent your beloved paleontologist girlfriend off to Isla Sorna to scout all the lovely dinosaurs. And I knew you'd go after her. Isn't that delightful?"

Ian: "You're lucky you're so damned cute."

John: "You'd better hurry. My nephew Peter Ludlow, the new head of InGen, is planning on making a tacky dinosaur amusement park. And he won't even give me half an acre for my performing fleas. Go and stop him. And at least get me a cut of the profits if you can't."

Kelly: "Dad, can I go with you, Dad? Dad?"

Ian Malcolm: "No! Now go away until I feel like parenting. Sarah? SARAH?"

Sarah: "She's a woman, Ian, not a child. I'm so tired of you treating us women like we're brainless, hysterical little damsels in distress. Anyway, Ian, this is really your own fault. You filled our heads with stories of this place. Did you really think we had the self control to stay away? Sorry, I love you but I don't need you right now. I'm off to finish my dissertation on baby dinosaurs."

Peter Ludlow: "We're here to take the dinosaurs."

Dieter Stark: "Look at it. It's like he's not even afraid."

Hippie Beardo: "They've got no reason to fear man."

Dieter: *taser* "They do now."

Sadako: "Dieter? This is a Spielberg film and you just 86ed an animal. You do know your chances of making it out alive are less than your chances were of actually getting Steve Buscemi through that woodchipper back in North Dakota, yes?"

Roland: "I've set up base camp. You can keep my fee, you corporate wanker. All I want is the right to hunt the Rex. The male one. The buck."

Sadako: "Oh, Roland, ever heard of sexual dimorphism? I'll spell it out: species where the male is little and the female is big. Or the animal world equivalent of the parents of Phil and Lil on Rugrats. Sadly, you're still the least sexist character in this damned movie."

Roland: "Look, Ajay. The Rex young. With offspring that young, the parents won't leave him alone that long. We can use the baby to get him where we want him to go."

Sarah: "Or her. Female Rexes are just as worthy of capture!"

Rex Baby: "HALP!"

Kelly: "Dad, why are they hurting the dinosaurs like that?"

Ian: "The world is a cruel place."

Sadako: "Yes, yes, it's all very Trail of Tears. Now quiet, I want to hear more about the dino amusement park."

Nick: "John Hammond did send a back up plan. Me."

Sarah: "So...you have a plan."

Nick: "Star in as many crappy features as possible until Will Ferrell realizes I'm the greatest thing since Spam in a Can. Oh, and free the dinosaurs that they penned up!"

Nick: "Well, we've destroyed all of INGEN's evil corporate radios and phones by unleashing a dinosaur stampede. But we've still got the expensive trailers we came with to dispense with. Time for operation save cute baby! Come on, baby Rex."

Sarah: "Oh, come here, you. Let's fix that leg."

Sadako: "Nick. The bad news? This isn't going to end well. The good news is that if you make it out of here alive, the good people at Whale Wars have a mid level stinky butter hurling position to offer you."

Ian: "Why does no one listen to me?"

Rex: "Give us the baby. No one gets hurt."

Ian: "That should make an interesting chapter in your book."

Sarah: "I think the debate over the parental instincts of the T-Rex is now academic. Now, the only question is what to put on the cover. Baby Long Neck or Baby Three Horn?"

Rex: "...Psych. We're back. A dinosaur's story of revenge. Come on, honey, help me push the RVs over the side."

All: "HALP!"

Eddie Carr: "Eddie to the rescue!"

Spielberg: "Great. Rexes, start yanking him apart."

Eddie: "Wait, wait. I operated according to the rules of the Spielberg-a-verse. I saved the heroes. I allied with the Greenpeace guys. I don't have a law degree. I didn't steal embryos, and I didn't shoot the cute herbivorous stegs when they were attacking Sarah Harding because they were just defending their baby. I didn't even fantasize about Sarah in nothing but a smile and a flak jacket."

Spielberg: "You saw the first film, you balding, overweight tech geek. You know the rules. I really don't think this is quite the film for a man of your...carriage. If you go quietly, I'll leave twenty pounds of free gummy dinosaurs in your trailer."

Sadako: "Aw. If you set it to accordion music it's kind of like Lady and the Tramp."

John: "You see, it's much more profitable to simply film nature videos of the dinosaurs in their natural habitat, just being dinosaurs, and then have my brother narrate over them in a calm soothing tone of voice. We'll make a mint!"

So did we all learn the lesson that Mr. Spielberg taught us today? Corporations bad, technology worse, dinosaurs are worthy of study because they have babies, and the Costa Rican jungle is no place for women.